melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose


*******
nothing's sadder than a rose
plucked before her time
her petals crushed and bruised
and separated from the vine

a rose
is a flower
singular and wild
a rose
is a flower
driven as a  climbing child

keep her in the sunshine
offer her up some rain
gently till the earth beneath her
her simple beauty's much to gain

for nothing's sadder than a rose
plucked before her time
her petals crushed and fallen
and separated from the vine

keep her in the garden
offer her up your love
minister to her tender roots
she is fragile as a dove

for nothing's sadder than a rose
plucked before her time
her blood-red petals crushed and broken
and separated from her vine.

*******
I woke up with all of this in my head this morning.
I thought it ought to be written down.
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM MONDAY OCTOBER 1 2018
6:10 AM PST TIME/DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS
AUTHOR/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR
THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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